Raven's Roads
Living an interesting life: the travels and musings
of motorcycling author Linda R. Moore

17 July

Normally, a day on which I am woken up at five, and then again at seven, would not be a good day. I need my sleep, but after I realized that I'd had as much as I was getting I got up and wandered outside to join Don who was doing some tinkering on the van. I spotted some boxes outside the empty house next door…and went to peek. Oh my goodness! Books! They were throwing out books!

I rescued the one that was full of paperback novels, aware that even though I don't myself need them I do know a bunch of Book Crossers and other book-mad loonies wonderful intelligent people who would love them.

That was the first of today's treasures.

Recently, Don and I have not been playing much. We had been riding–just not for fun. It had been a long time since the both of us just got on the bikes “just because” and hung out together. I suggested that we go and get fish and chips on the wharf at Santa Cruz. By 9:30 we were on the road, planning to take the freeway until we saw that northbound 101 was one solid mess. With one mind we re-routed. We hopped onto 17, the wiggly waggly two-lane freeway “over the hill” and at half past ten were parked near the log ride at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk on a warm summer's day. The cool wind blowing off the ocean was fresh with ozone and the smell of excitement and fun.

I'm fond of Santa Cruz. I would live there if I could. While I'm not a crowds person in general, the crowds at Santa Cruz are always happy and out to have a fun time with their wad of 75c tickets. We got lucky one year and wandered in on a promotion where if you bought a can of Pepsi you could turn in the empty can for a $5 all-day wrist band–about an eighth of the normal ride. We got to try out (almost) everything. (Not for anyone will I go on a ride that turns me upside-down.) The town has an energy to it that seems to leave me with a pleasant, creative buzz, and besides, one of my all-time favorite movies was filmed there. Look at the picture and see if you can';t figure out which one.

I gathered up my jacket–if any fellow rider could possibly give me some tips on carrying one's jacket in some convenient way that is not over one arm I would appreciate it–and we wandered up to the nearest entrance. This year the boardwalk has its 100th anniversary and we'd barely been there five minutes when I started jumping up and down with glee. To celebrate the anniversary there was a new historical walking tour, with a whole new bunch of plaques to snarf! Books and snarfs in the same day…I was glad I'd brought Mr. Penguin along!

Walkway 3 was right alongside the Giant Dipper, the only kind of coaster that I like. The metal twisty ones scare the willies out of me; as previously noted I hate being tipped upside down and the only time I did the metal coaster at Santa Cruz I opened my eyes once–found myself way up high with no crash barriers, no nothing–and kept them closed for the rest of the ride. The old coasters are bumpier, but they stay upright, and this one, opened in 1924, happens to be a National Historic Landmark, the USA's highest “grade” of historic site. The mural made me giggle–two of the riders looking seasick, and the other one going, Dude! and quite possibly on something.

The Giant Dipper even had a brand new plaque to say that it had been awarded landmark status by the American Coaster Enthusiasts, opening up a second new world of historical markers to explore. Don patiently watched as I rushed from side to side, photographing all the plaques, sometimes with a penguin. On the beach side the larger plaques gave more of a background to the kinds of activities that were held there–movies, sports, and even beauty pageants. Smaller ones told stories of the original businesses. It surprised me to see that many of the little stands and shops were still owned by the same families who had started them.

Just down the way was the Looff carrousel, the other half of the National Historic Landmark and absolutely my favorite attraction of the whole boardwalk. Riding it instantly transports me back to being a carefree kid and, judging from how busy it is, I'm not the only one. Delivered in 1911, this is the oldest ride on the boardwalk. There are 73 horses, all with real horsehair tails, one of the few remaining brass ring dispensers, and the chariots mixed in with the horses were designed to let the ladies of the early 20th century preserve their modesty!

Back then, it wasn't permitted to go on the beach in one's bathing suits. California wasn't always the land of Babe Watch. Gradually, though, the laws loosened up and the outfits got skimpier. Now, if you are so inclined, you can watch people in bikinis and shorts playing volleyball in the sand.

We caught the Redwood train coming in and took a peek. Two trains–a steam train and one that about all I can tell you is that it's not a steam train–leave from Santa Cruz for a nice ride out in the redwood forests. Your tickets will cost between about $19 and about $21, so it was definitely not on the agenda for today. They even do a night ride, though I'd be more inclined to see the forests during the day.

The covered area that leads into Neptune's World, where there used to be a swimming pool and dancing (not necessarily at the same time, though you just never know) now has new square tables with two seats. At least one was marked with checks so that you can play chess or checkers–or maybe just enjoy some goodies from the nearby candy emporium, full of lollipops, caramel apples and pink-scented cotton candy. I was on a quest, though, and we ducked through the amusement hall–most notable for its set of aged amusements such as original PacMan and Space Invaders–and then went out into the sunlight again.

I was disappointed to see that the wonderful railroad crossing sign had been taken down. It used to depict a little guy sitting on the ground, rubbing his head, with a crumpled bicycle next to him. Over the years a surfboard and skateboard were stickered on (no wonder the poor guy crashed). I don't think Santa Cruz has lost its sense of humor, so I can only think that somebody stole it. How sad! This sign was one of the first things I remember from my first trip to California, eleven years ago.

It was hot out there! I was glad for my hat, though it wouldn't stay on my head once we got out onto the wharf. Several sea lions played in the water for the amusement of the tourists. You're supposed not to feed them, but I suspect that's the reason why they are so close to the wharf. There were several booths with information about the area (new marker system number three), but it was lunchtime and I knew where to get the best fish and chips in Santa Cruz. Right at the end of the wharf is a tiny little bait and tackle shack that sells food for humans. The service is indifferent, but the chips are thick and salty, and you get two tasty fillets of fish. After chasing wind-borne napkins halfway across the universe, we split a portion and it was plenty.

Seagulls made seagull noises and flipped lazily in the air, the sunlight catching them and making them appear to glow. The sea breeze was fresh and welcome, and the company was good.

We returned at a faster pace to make sure we beat the meter maid in her little meter maid mobile (sort of like a golf cart, only scarier). At $1.50 an hour the meters were expensive enough without adding a hefty parking ticket to the mix. After a tricky exit from the town, playing dodge the tourist and spot the 3″ tall road sign, we made it onto Cliff Drive which, as the name suggests, hugs the coastline almost exactly, looping round in urban switchbacks in a way that the Pacific Coast Highway mostly doesn't.

I had always wanted to see the Surfer Dude monument, thinking that it was a monument to a famous Surfer Dude, but it turned out to be a monument to all surfer dudes in general. I stood there and watched the surflings paddle their little short boards out into the ocean and remembered that at some point I actually wanted to learn how to surf. Meanwhile, a guy moseyed on by on the biggest monocycle I'd ever seen. It looked like a penny farthing without the farthing.

Even though I already knew the museum would be closed, we stopped at the Surfing Museum anyway. There were plaques from yet another new system–the fourth today–would the marker goodness never end? I read the two plaques from the Sanctuary Scenic Trail, part of an ongoing effort by the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary and many different partners, and learned a little about the wildlife around this area. The trail is still incomplete, but sections are added here and there and eventually it will stretch along the entire coastline of the sanctuary.

The lighthouse was donated by the parents of Mark Abbott, a kid who was drowned while surfing in 1965, and is dedicated to all youth and their particular flavor of vision. The lighthouse might help save lives, but there was still a sad testimonial to a badly hurt friend there. Lying against a sign warning “Don't be the next (to die) was a cross scribbled over with messages and requests to pray for a 15-year old boy. The cliff area was entirely fenced off, but he (like many others) had jumped off the cliff to get to the water–and the sea had won. He nearly drowned, and at the time of writing was still in a coma.

We stood and watched the surfers for a while; everybody down there seemed to be a relative newbie and nobody was getting upright, but that was all right. They were still better at it than me. We got on the bikes, relaxed, and rode home along the coast and then through deep woodlands with curving roads and the smell of eucalyptus and rich earth. Getting stung for the first time while riding was not fun, but didn't put a dampener on things at all. We stood at the view point on highway 35 and picked out the landmarks, seeing our home valley from way above…just being.

This was officially a Very Good Day.

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